


Egbert

by Severina



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 00:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17908616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: Egbert showed up unexpectedly in my previous fic, "Holding On in Four Acts". This is how he came to be.





	Egbert

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's 1_million_words community for February Bingo, for the prompt "rescue animals"
> 
> * * *

"His name is Egbert."

"No."

Matt is well aware of what that No means. And when it is combined with the furrowed brow and the crossed arms, it means that he has a long hard battle ahead of him. But he also knows that the longer he pretends not to know what that No means, the easier it may be to wear John down. 

He hasn't spent the last eight years living with the guy without learning a few tricks.

"Yeah, it is," Matt says. "Okay, so he didn't have a name when he came here. Because he's a rescue dog, right? This organization that I work with, the one that I run the website for—"

"No, Matt."

"-- _Homeward Bound_? You know them, Marcie and Tamara were here for that barbecue last summer when the stock exchange exploded and you ended up fighting with that long lost Gruber on top of the ferris wheel at the Toys R Us in Times Square? Anyway, they rescued a bunch of dogs from a South Korean dog farm and brought them back to the states and of course, they don't have names there because _they're farmed for meat_ , John, it's horrible, so—"

"Matt." 

John sighed. 

That wasn’t a good sign.

Matt had no recourse but to carry on. He could do this. 

"—sooooooo I named him. Egbert. Because he totally looks like an Egbert."

John _should_ look less intimidating standing in front of a backdrop of Barbie paraphernalia and holding the loose end of an oversized bubble-pink Happy Birthday banner. Also, those eight years of sharing house and home with the dude should have taken the bloom off the rose, so to speak. When you see a guy fart and burp and spill soup on himself and swear when he stubs his toe, it's kind of difficult to keep seeing him as Superman.

Except this was John McClane, and Matt had already realized that he'd never not feel just a little bit of awe over the guy.

Shot himself through the shoulder to get the bad guy. Jumped off a building wrapped in a fire hose. Killed a man with an icicle, for fucks sake.

"Egbert," he says again, managing a weak smile. He tugs gently on the sleepy beagle. "Because of the ears?"

"Matt—"

"You can't just unilaterally say No," Matt says in what he hopes is a reasonable tone. "You might call me 'kid', but we've been in this relationship for eight years now, McClane—"

"Jeeezus," John murmurs. "Eight years and I'm still sane."

"—and this is a decision that we should make together." Matt finishes. "And ha ha, by the way. Very funny."

John lets the banner flutter to the ground, steps around the oversized Barbie and Ken cutouts. "Uh huh," he says. "And you just bringin' the puppy home without checkin' with me first, that's makin' a decision together, is it kid?"

Okay. John totally had him there. Because despite the fact that John is exactly as big of a bad ass as he plays on TV – god knows Matt has watched and rewatched the video footage of Nakatomi and the Federal Reserve over the years – he also has this totally schmaltzy, ooey-gooey centre. It's that floofy interior that has him spending an entire Friday night outfitting his living room into Barbie Central for Willie's fourth birthday party the next day. 

So was it really so difficult to expect him to see Egbert's adorable little face and giant floppy ears and big brown eyes and fall immediately and desperately in love?

"We can't make a decision until we see how he fits with us," Matt tries. He gets to his knees to scratch behind Egbert's ears, and the dog gives a sleepy sigh of contentment and a rapid thump of his tail. "Me bringing it up and you just saying No without even meeting him – even if we discuss it – is no different than a unilateral No."

"We're never home."

"We're home all the—"

"You have classes every day and I'm running one of the largest federal anti-terror campaigns in the country," John says. "Who's gonna take him outside so he can piss? Take him for walks? Give him attention? Let him run around in the—"

"Can't we just TRY?" Matt interrupts, and he'd be ashamed to admit that he's close to tears except Egbert is _counting_ on him. He spent the first five months of his life stuffed into a tiny cage with dirty water and scraps of food and not a single loving touch and he'd made the dog a promise that things would be better now, and—

John's warm hand comes down on his nape. "One week," John says. "Okay, Matty?"

"You'll try?"

The hand that had rested on his neck lifts in a boy-scout salute. "No preconceptions. I'll give the dog a fair shake."

"Egbert."

John rolls his eyes. "Jeeeezus, kid. _Egbert_."

"And if it doesn't work out, I'll find him a good home. Fair shake on my end, too."

"Deal," John says. "Now get off your ass and help me string these fairy lights, would ya? Willie ain't gonna know what hit her tomorrow. Mark's parents takin' her to Disneyland for her birthday, jeeeezus."

"You know it's not a competition, right?"

"Fairy lights!

Matt grinned and jumped to his feet. "Sir, yes sir!"

Egbert barked in agreement.

* * *

The eggs are burned. The sausage tastes like plastic. Even the toast is black.

"Delicious," Matt tries to say around a mouthful of sawdust. When John just glares at him, Matt winces. "Did you get _any_ sleep last night?"

"You mean in between trying to get the dog to stop crying and cleaning up his piss?"

Matt puts down his fork and shoves his plate away as a bad call. "It was his first night," he says patiently. "He'll do better. Won't you, Eggie?"

"I think he's got some kind of urinary tract problem," John says. "Ain't normal for a dog that small to piss that much."

Matt laughs, leans down to scratch beneath Egbert's chin. And to sneak him a piece of toast. Egbert doesn't mind a little charcoal on his bread. He's not the discriminating type. "I think he was just nervous, but I'll get him checked out if you want. After the party."

John glances at the clock. "Jeeeeezus, the party. They're gonna be here any goddamn minute! Get the dog in the basement."

"Egbert is _not_ going in the basement," Matt bristles.

"I don't want him runnin' around—"

"He's a member of this family and—"

"If he trips up Wilhelmina, you are going to have hell to—"

The doorbell cuts off any further argument, and if Matt smiles a little smugly as he dashes to the door before John can make it halfway to the basement stairs then so be it. He keeps an eye on the dog as Egbert, for his part, sits halfway beneath one of the dining room chairs as family enters, greetings are exchanged, kisses are given, and—

Then he spots Willie.

If there is ever a dog that is an early contender for Fastest Zero to Sixty in the beagle class, it is Egbert when he sees the love of his life for the very first time.

Matt makes an aborted leap for his collar, but the dog is _fast_ when he wants to be. Within three seconds he has darted past Matt's flailing hand, leapt over a meticulously arranged Barbie Playhouse and Pool Party, and tackled the little girl with ferocious kisses.

"A puppy!" Willie exclaims around her giggles.

Mark grins and drops to his knees beside his daughter, getting a few slobber kisses of his own before Egbert returns his attention to Wilhelmina. "A puppy. Awesome!"

"A… puppy," Lucy intones. "Really, Dad?"

John raises his hands in surrender. "Don't look at me."

"Grandpa! Pops!" Willie yells. "This is the best birthday present EVER!"

Matt doesn't even have to _look_ to know that John's chest has expanded to three times its regular size. Take that, Disneyland. 

And as he watches Egbert frolic with the little girl, he has to smile. He _did_ promise Eggie a happy life filled with love and affection, after all. It just turned out it wasn't going to be with him and John.

He meets John's eyes as he says, "Happy Birthday, Wills."

And he's not giving up on getting a pet. Just maybe next time, he'll start with a hamster.


End file.
